Centerfold
by teshara
Summary: Years after Hogwarts, Ron is confronted by an image at a newspaper vendors. Updated after 4 year hiatus!
1. Chapter 1

_She was pure like snowflakes  
No one could ever stain  
The memory of my angel  
Could never cause me pain_

Years go by I'm lookin' through a girly magazine  
And there's my homeroom angel on the pages in-betweenMy blood runs cold  
My memory has just been sold  
My angel is the centerfold  
Angel is the centerfold  


-+-+

Ron Weasley sat in a small café in London with a quickly cooling cup of tea in front of him. His colleague was late. Again.

He flipped his palm pilot case open and groaned when he saw an e-mail from her. As usual, something had come up and she would just have to meet him later via conference chat online.

He never thought he'd find himself living in Muggle London. He was beginning to regret it. It was far more hassle than the money as a barrister was worth.

He gulped his cup of tea down and winced as he felt a pain in his chest. He'd never had that symptom as a child. As a matter of fact, his mother was always amazed at the speed he could pack away food at.

Well, he certainly was no longer a child. He was glad Hermione had talked him into accompanying her to Oxford. He had done well, fallen in love with his work, and made a name for himself.

Unfortunately, Hermione had found another path and ultimately they had fallen out of touch with each other.

Ron picked up his bowler and tapped it on top his head. He gathered his things and started fastening the black buttons on his mac. It had drizzled slightly this morning and it was dry now, but the clouds looked ominous. He picked up the ivory handled umbrella Clara and the children had given him for last Christmas. It had his wand securely hidden within the handle.

Clever girl, even if she was a Muggle.

He rose just as the thunder started. He snapped his umbrella open and made his way to the tube.

As he approached the vendor he tried to look cross. This vendor was always trying to pawn off his newest girlie magazines, but he was the closest and Ron was already running late.

"Your Gazette, sir," said the tiny man, tipping his hat. In a vaguely dirty way, the man reminded Ron of Mundungus Fletcher, may he rest in peace. "And might I interest you in an ocular indulgence?" The man gestured to a new magazine he had suspended behind him with a clothespin.

Ron opened his mouth to say no and found himself just standing there with his mouth open.

"Let me see that," he whispered.

"I knew I'd find something for you one day," the old man chuckled.

Ron gave him an odd look. Perhaps the man was just into spreading beauty throughout the world. Ron wasn't comfortable thinking of anything else, though it tickled at the fringes of his mind.

The man passed the magazine to Ron and he took it with trembling hands. There was a pile of beautiful women lounging on a ridiculously large bed covered in red sheets. The women were wearing feathers and spangles. In the middle of it all, Hermione Granger grinned coyly up ay him.

"How much?" Ron whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"Six quid," the man grinned. He looked at the cover and them at Ron's face. His smile faltered. "Anything wrong, sir?"

"No," said Ron quickly. He paid the man, stuffed the magazine in his mac, and ran to catch his ride to work.

Later in his office he dispatched his secretary with numerous tasks and locked himself in his office. He spelled the lock in place and secured his blinds shut with another spell. Then he pulled the magazine out of his mac and placed it on his desk.

She was still there. Her hair was twisted up and long curls trailed down, lords, it must have taken that poor muggle stylist hours to pull that off.

Barristers of Bean Town, it said.

So she had made it to the United States. Good for her. She had always wanted to travel.

Ron flipped through the magazine quickly. It wasn't hard to find her. It was directly in the center and was the largest picture there. In this picture she wasn't wearing a stitch except for a hair bauble made of sequins and a bit of glitter. She seemed to glow. It was probably the airbrushing.

Ron blinked.

She must be taking youth potions. He noticed her bio listed her age as 24. Her name was listed as Hermione Kelly. She was single. Ron snickered. Still a clever girl. She could get her papers to say whatever she wanted and could change ages with a move. It was a sign she wasn't going to stay in the States forever. They tended to catch on to that sort of thing.

The last time Ron saw Hermione like this was his second year at Oxford. The first time was just after they had left Hogwarts.

Fleur was in labor and the whole Weasley family was at St. Mungo's Hermione and Ron had gone back to sleep. Molly had eyed them suspiciously, but they had left.

They had kissed for a bit on his bed, but they had done that before. Ron was a little surprised when she started undressing him, but tried to clumsily encourage her.

She smiled at him, the same smile on the cover of the magazine, and had let her robes fall to the floor. Then she had crawled in bed with him.

He had worshiped her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He had tried not to cause her discomfort, but had heard her gasp as he entered her. He had made her climax before, but she hadn't had anything larger than a finger enter her and he had always treated her gently. Now his body was telling him to plunge forward.

He tried to hold back, but at a whisper of encouragement found himself pounding away like a man possessed. She had screamed a climax, something she had never done before, and he ended up breaking his bed with the pounding, but didn't stop until he was done, feeling Hermione laughing beneath him.

She had fixed the bed, of course, and they had nearly died of embarrassment when they discovered Molly hadn't trusted them after all and had send Ginny and Charlie back to the house to look after them.

They had never told a soul, but ribbed Ron and Hermione whenever they got the chance.

It had lasted 2 years and had been an amicable parting.

Now he felt a flood of emotion as he looked at the picture in front of him.

There was only one thing to do.

He picked the phone up and dialed a number.

"Harry!"

A pause as he listened on the other end.

"Fine! Just fine! How's Heather?"

A pause. Ron looked down at Hermione and chuckled.

"Good. Tell me, do you have a magazine stand near your flat?"

His face brightened.

"Go pick up a copy of _Lovely Ladies._"

Another pause.

"No, I'm not kidding. You'll love the centerfold."

He looked annoyed for a minute.

"It's Hermione."

"No, I'm not kidding."

"Calling herself Hermione Kelly. Taking youth potions from the look of it."

"Completely starkers."

"Oh yea, Clara'll think it's hysterical."

Ron turned bright red.

"You shut it. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up the phone, snickered, then dialed another number.

"Hello, sweet cheeks," he leered into the phone.

He paused.

"No, Doris never showed up, I swear she's daft," said Ron. "Anyway I have something to show you when I get home. You'll cry laughing."

"Hermione's in a girly magazine."

Ron held the phone away from his ear and looked amused at the explosion of sound.

"Youth potions, I suppose."

"No, you can't have one, nice try."

"Wonderful! Like she did at 24! With a lot more glitter and feathers."

"Maybe for Christmas. A temporary one."

"Sure, send the owl and I'll send it to you."

"You'd use the potion for what?" Ron's eyes widened. A pink flush started spreading over his face. "Really, now…"

He paused at a purring sound on the other end of the line.

"Next weekend. I'll have one by next weekend. Two! One for each of us! And I'll send the kids to mum and dads!"

There was a giggle on the other end and a sultry good bye.

Lords, that woman undid him. The receiver clicked back into its plastic cradle.

He'd have to send an owl to Hermione, thanking her.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: AU past HPB.

For Risi. I never would have thought of it no my own ;)

Centerfold II

_Those soft and fuzzy sweaters  
Too magical to touch  
Too see her in that negligee  
Is really just too much_

It's okay I understand  
This ain't no never-never land  
I hope that when this issue's gone  
I'll see you when your clothes are on

A part of me has just been ripped  
The pages from my mind are stripped  
Oh no, I can't deny it  
Oh yea, I guess I gotta buy it!

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the head table drinking his tea when a thin package landed in front of him. He quirked an eyebrow and examined the writing on the front without touching it.

Severus Snape noticed all this.

It was unusual for things to come to the Headmaster during breakfast. They usually went to his office. Severus noticed the Headmaster didn't touch the package. Snape felt his spine stiffen. The Headmaster glanced in his direction for a fraction of a second. Severus interpreted it as a summons.

Not really, but it was a plausible excuse.

Snape rose and went to Dumbledore's side.

"It's from Harry," Dumbledore said as he sipped his tea. Flitwick and McGonagall were vaguely interested as well.

"Something important?" Snape asked.

"Well, I don't know, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Clairvoyance has never been a gift of mine."

The headmaster waved and the package unwrapped itself. Then he spurted tea out his nose. The other three teachers gasped in unison.

It glowed slightly in a greenish haze as the age activated shield spell let them see the cover of the magazine. A muggle men's magazine titled Lovely Ladies.

Former Gryffindor Hermione Granger gave a smoldering look from the center of the cover. Other women lounged about on the large bed with her. They weren't wearing much at all. Mostly feathers and spangles.

"Good heavens!" Flitwick spluttered.

McGonagall made a few gasping sounds before she closed her eyes and began counting.

The Headmaster himself just blinked in astonishment. And coughed a lot.

Severus Snape burst out laughing.

This, of course, caused the entire student body to turn towards the staff table and stare.

Dumbledore slammed the magazine onto the table in front of him and tried to look normal. He was still choking.

Perhaps he could have pulled it off if he had cleared his plate away first.

Perhaps he could have pulled it off if McGonagall hadn't tried to cover it up with her hands, smashing it into the remainder of his syrup covered plate, splashing it into his long white beard.

Flitwick let out a small squeak of terror and nearly flung himself over the plate.

"Good lord," Snape said, ripping the magazine from the table and spelling it clean. "It's spelled. Obviously you aren't mature enough to handle this sort of thing."

McGonagall gave him a withering look as she pounded the Headmaster on the back.

"I'll put it in your office, sir," Snape said as he tucked it into his robes. "This is highly inappropriate at the breakfast table. Apparently Potter has the same judgment he always displayed."

He threw a look at the students and they immediately started looking anywhere besides the head table. It was good to master The Glare.

He stalked from the hall, but instead of going to the Headmasters office he turned left and proceeded down to the dungeons. He hoped no one would catch him with a smirk on his face. He couldn't seem to stop it.

He reached his office and uttered the password under his breath. He ripped the magazine out of his robes and flipped it to the centerfold.

"Infuriating little witch," Snape breathed. "What a waste of talent."

He spread the picture out on his desk and went over to a small locked cabinet. He fumbled for a bit before pulling a small silver key out of his robes and the lock clicked open.

He walked back to the desk with a small pink bottle. He pulled the stopper out and a large bushy brush came out of the small bottle, covered with a light pink powder.

You could turn a regular picture to a Wizarding picture even if you forget to develop it in a special potion. The process was complicated of course, but Severus used it as a Seventh Year test a few years ago.

He had a single bottle left.

Carefully he brushed it over the picture.

The picture Hermione blinked as if she was waking up. She stretched prettily and grinned at her old potions teacher. Then she turned and waggled her buttocks at him.

"Cheeky!" Snape exclaimed at the picture. She turned back and blew him a kiss. To his embarrassment, he began turning red. He chuckled. "Good lord."

He read the small interview, shaking his head at small embellishments in her education. At least she had been able to master a rather complicated youth potion, from the looks of it. At least he had done his job.

He wondered what she got out of disrobing in such a display. Money perhaps. Perhaps she was finally breaking out of her bookworm phase.

Not everyone was lucky enough to have potions enabling them to relive their youth. Snape caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror he kept near the door to his classroom.

Time had worn on him a bit.

His raven hair was now white. He didn't remember his nose being quite that droopy when he was a lad. The circles under his eyes had developed into bags. Freckles were starting to wind across his forehead and he noticed his hands were quite speckled.

A youth potion wouldn't hurt him, either.

Maybe a charm or two as well.

He turned back to the magazine. She was smirking coyly. Then she snaked a hand between her own legs.

Severus felt a twitch in his trousers. He was vaguely annoyed. No matter how old she was, she was still a student.

Sort of.

Not really.

He waved his wand and magically locked the door to his office.

She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.

He was certainly enjoying it.

To his horror, he found himself fiddling with the fastenings on his trousers.

Really! He hadn't done that sort of thing since he was a lad. He was above that sort of thing now. It was undignified.

He noticed Hermione had started without him. Her nipples tightened and the corners of her mouth seemed strained.

She certainly didn't waste any time.

'Here's to youth,' Snape thought grimly as he ripped his trousers as he freed his erection. He hadn't done that since he was a lad, either.

A sharp rap at his door stopped him. He waved his wand and did his trousers up. He swore as he mended the scene.

He watched as Hermione's back arched on the page.

Goodness, that was fast. Perhaps she had been occupied with work in the recent months and had been too tired. Perhaps she had a bad break up.

Perhaps she was a wanton little wench in need of a-

The knocking repeated itself. Snape snarled.

He went to his door and flung it open.

_"WHAT!"_

McGonagall stood there, one eyebrow quirked and a hand out expectantly. Her lips were pursed disapprovingly.

He snarled at her and the magazine slapped into her hand.

"Really, Severus."

He slammed the door in her face.

She shook her head as she walked to the headmaster's office.

Miss Granger had no idea how much mayhem this was bound to cause._ing herself. He was certainly enjoying it._

_dent._

_d between her own legs._


	3. Chapter 3

Centerfold III

Hermione had never been one to deny Dumbledore an audience.

She had received the owl late last week and found herself on a plane the following Wednesday.

He wouldn't tell her what it was about, but he had offered to pay for a first-class plane ticket. She could hardly say no.

Her colleagues had been excited for her. They were under the impression she was looking at an international case. Something that could make her career. She would go back saying it was regretfully settled out of court. They would be disappointed, but she could still get away for a bit.

It would be good to see Hogwarts again.

Hell, it would be good to see Oxford again.

It would certainly be good to see Harry and Ron again. She sat back in her seat, the rough material catching her tweed jacket as she moved.

There was a large, pink-faced, middle-aged man with wispy blond hair and a large, bushy mustache sitting beside her. He was wearing an expensive, light colored silk suit and glanced at Hermione occasionally. She had dressed in her best travel clothes, (enchanted to keep her cool in the warm plane, of course) but hoped he wouldn't flirt with her. There was nothing worse than being stuck next to a jerk for a transatlantic flight.

However, when the drink cart went by he ordered her champagne without taking his headphones off or speaking to her. She thanked him awkwardly and he bobbed his head at her before tucking in with a book about the Swedish Economy.

The flight was long and Hermione took the opportunity to take a nap after she subjected herself to a heavily edited version of a popular Muggle movie.

As the plane touched down in London, her seat mate discreetly pulled out a copy of Lovely Ladies and asked politely, in a thick Swedish accent, for Hermione to sign it.

She had blushed ferociously, but signed it. He kissed her hand and walked off with a spring in his step. She was terribly embarrassed, but no one seemed to have seen them. She tried not to giggle.

Hermione was met at the baggage check by a smart-looking, dark-haired, young man who was holding a sign with her name on it. She was informed politely that he would be taking her to the Weasley residence before he helped her put her bags in the trunk of a very expensive-looking town car.

They drove through London and then to the outskirts of the city. So many things had changed and yet, she still knew her way around. She sighed at progress and how nothing could slow it.

They finally pulled up to the Weasley residence, a cheerful yellow cottage with a small, grassy yard surrounded by a small white picket fence. Hermione chuckled. Ron must have had to magically built it. He was totally useless as a carpenter.

Hermione's young driver handed her an envelope with a key inside it as he helped her take her bags out of the trunk and up to the door, where he gave her a short bow before returning to the car and driving off..

Hermione jingled the key in the lock and took a deep breath. Ron would still be at work and Clara said the boys had a Junior Football game this afternoon. It would give Hermione time for the youth potion to wear off. Then she would change the pictures on her passport and identification to be accurate. She made that mistake once and had to perform a memory charm.

She opened the door and smiled. The Weasleys house was quite new and Ron was quite prideful that he could live close to London and manage to afford a detached house. It smelled of cinnamon and home baked bread. Family pictures decorated the walls and a pile of small shoes were in a box near the door.

Hermione carried her bags over the threshold and closed and locked the door behind her. From Ron's memo, she would have an hour or two before anyone got home.

She looked at the pictures on the walls and grinned. Ginny and Charlie in St. Petersburg. Bill and Fleur under the Christmas tree, four smiling blond children at their feet. George and Angelina in front of their shop, a small, tawny-skinned boy with thick bunches of red hair grinned beside them. Percy sitting at his work desk at the home, piles of files surrounding him. A small blond girl with horn rimmed classes sat on his lap waving ferociously, the pencils sticking out of the thick bun pinned to her head making her look like a small secretarial goddess.

Hermione found a very pretty, peach colored chair in Ron's den and she settled down with a book of Wizarding fables she found in the living room.

As time passed, she noticed her hands change first. Her skin started to sag slightly and small brown spots began to appear. A curl that lay across her shoulder lost what little smoothness it had and had lightened in color.

She sighed. At least she wouldn't have to worry about the potion wearing off in public. That could get complicated quickly when traveling by Muggle transit.

The flight must have tired her more than she thought, or maybe it was from the potions fading off and her youthful energy going with her looks, but when her eyes opened to the sound of a slamming screen door the sun was lower and her muscles felt as if they had been posed awkwardly for a long period of time.

She vowed to fall asleep on the sofa next time, and not the lovely looking, yet horribly uncomfortable chair.

"Auntie Mine!" Small voices called out the name they had first squeaked out as toddlers. Hermione was happy to see them in person instead of smiling faces in her email box and sat up straighter as four small redheads stampeded into the room and piled on top of Hermione.

Hermione kissed the top of their heads in turn.

"What did you bring us from America?" The youngest, a girl of about five years, wearing a pink jumper and jeans demanded.

"Hannah!" Clara Weasley, a tall, blond Muggle woman appeared in the doorway with a horrified look on her very pretty face. "That is very rude!"

"I'm sorry." The small Hannah said, not sounding sorry at all. "But did you bring anything?"

"Of course I did." Hermione assured her with a tousle on her head and a grin. "Don't be silly."

Clara rolled her eyes and waved her children away. She kissed Hermione on the cheek and helped her to her feet. "We're so glad you could come visit us. Ron's been excited all week."

"It's good to be home." Hermione admitted. "I haven't been able to touch base for ages. I've missed everyone so much!"

"Well we missed you as well," Clara said as they hugged.

Hermione gently hugged the other woman, always afraid she was going to hurt her thin, delicate form.

"Have you eaten yet?" Clara asked Hermione, her face looking worried.

"Well, I ate on the plane-"

"That's not food!" Clara rolled her eyes. "You should have eaten when you got here."

Hermione chuckled as she thought about how much Ron's waistline must be expanding.

They made their way into the kitchens and Hermione chuckled at the three sitting children waiting patiently as the oldest girl made peanut butter sandwiches.

"Your father will be home in an hour and then we'll be having dinner," Clara chided them.

"We'll still be hungry!" the smallest and the only boy piped up.

"I don't doubt it," Clara sighed. "Half a sandwich each."

The children stayed at the large, round table and Hermione sat in a tall chair near a counter as Clara rustled around in the refrigerator.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," Hermione said, finally relaxing as Clara pulled out a bowl of cut fruit covered in plastic wrap and a cold half of a chicken.

"Where else would you say?" Clara asked, her face looking horrified. "A hotel?"

Hermione tried not to snicker. Looks like a veela, acts like Molly. She really was suited for Ron.

"Mum!" A small, excited shriek came from the table and Hermione and Clara turned to see a whole, uncut sandwich float to the littlest boy who smacked his lips and grabbed it out of the air.

Clara set down the food and took a deep breath, a smile on her face. "It's always exciting the first time they do something magical. Ron's going to be so sad he missed it."

Then she walked over to the table and took the sandwich from the small boy, who whined in frustration. "Only half! Dinner is in an hour!"

He grumbled, but ate his sandwich as his sisters giggled at him.

Hermione took the wrapper off the fruit and picked at the fruit while Clara got the children napkins. Ron was lucky to have such a comfortable home.

-=-

Hermione and Ron tumbled from the Floo in the Three Broomsticks, a mass of cloaks and ash from the hearth.

They coughed to clear their lungs and got to their feet to the sound of laughter.

"You'd think you'd have the hang of it by now, old man!" Hermione heard Harry say and she tried to wipe the soot from her watering eyes so she could see him.

"Oh, you shut it!" Ron coughed. "Don't know what went wrong."

"I'll tell you what went wrong," Hermione squeaked out. "You tripped and fell into me, that's what went wrong."

"Lovely couple," Harry smirked to the brown-haired witch next to him. "You can see why they dated for so long."

Hermione clucked her tongue. "Whole two years. Nearly infinity."

She looked at her old friends. Ron was starting to lose his hair and Harry had gone salt and pepper. Heather was showing smile lines she didn't have at her and Harry's wedding all those years back, and they had all gone a bit soft.

"Ginny's not here yet," Harry said, sneaking a look at his pocket watch.

"She said something about having an interview that might run late," Ron admitted.

"Well then, we should all get something to drink," Heather suggested cheerfully. "While we wait for her."

"Do you know what this thing is up at the castle?" Hermione asked as Ron and Heather went to the bar to order drinks for them. "Dumbledore was kind of cryptic. Does he need something? Has something happened?"

"I'm sure it's nothing like that," Harry brushed her off lightly. "If it was serious I'm sure Ron and I would know. Maybe he's found something he thinks we should all see. Some artifact or something."

"Or maybe he just wanted a reunion." Hermione snorted. "He is getting up there."

"Give the old man a break," Harry said as he stretched his arms and grinned at her. "You were probably overdue for a vacation anyway."

Ron and Heather got back to the table with a round of shots and a pint for each of them.

They drank and laughed, Ginny finally joining them and embracing Hermione tightly.

"You're looking well," Ginny said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Thanks!" Hermione said, looking Ginny up and down.

Ginny was the one that looked fabulous. All those years playing Quidditch had kept her in top form and her long, light red hair was held in a high ponytail. Her face was slightly sunburned.

"Get a game in this morning, did you?" Hermione teased.

Ginny's hands went to her cheeks, as if she'd be able to sense the burn in some way. "Shows, does it?"

"It's not too bad." Hermione grinned at her.

"When do we have to be up at the castle, anyway?" Ginny asked as she took a sip of the pint her brother had got for her.

"Soon," Harry sighed as he put his hand on his wife's back and rubbed gently. Heather looked up at Harry and grinned. "We'll be leaving soon."


End file.
